Saturday, 30 May 2009

17

She’s one and sevenAnd if I was her ageShe’d pay me no attentionBut I can’t help but be drawn inTo her attraction

Her kicks her frills her body gives me chills her hair that flicks her ever round moonlight moon size eyes pulling me into- im oh man oh no it’s not the way to be for she is seventeen and I should know better than to kiss a teenage dream.

She’s one and sevenBut I know she likes meAnd I’ve been so lonesome latelyI can’t help but be openTo the attention given.

Playful hits on the head not working but following instead glances across that call for my stare let her know I -but no man that’s not, not no. For she is seventeen and I should know better than to embrace such heavenly grace.

She’s one and sevenSo when she called me overI was naturally hesitantwhen she Stepped closer while talking cleverher infectious laugher crept in

The deadpan jokes laughing in delight dancing the night away drinking like a hooligan’s holiday but not caring about what anyone thinks anyway I- no, if i could i-but no. She is seventeen and is yet to learn things aren’t quite what they seem.

She’s one and sevenThough you wouldn’t think itHer body, many men would kill forAnd her personality, I do adoreShe’s gaining my affection

When we talk we’re connecting, jokes and light strokesand though I am her plus three if you looked at us it really wouldn’t be what you’d see and-no stop now. I swear to never touch her. It could never be for she is seventeen and she, she is in love with me.